


Tumblr Prompts

by ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong (Sagnessagiel)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: AUs, Angst, F/M, Humour, M/M, lil bit of swearing, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-04-07 10:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14078838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagnessagiel/pseuds/ShepherdSoreyDidNothingWrong
Summary: Crossposting my prompts from tumblr.Based on my own prompt list (link in the notes).





	1. Chocobochild (Zaveid/Lailah)

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is shepherdsoreydidnothingwrong. Insert "/post/167499740880/short-prompt-list" after the url to find the prompt list. 
> 
> Feel free to submit a request in the comments if you'd like. 
> 
> First prompt, from Chocobochild:  
> Nyello lovely prompt list you got there,,, could I maybe get uuuuhhhh either 16 with zaveid/eizen or 7 with Lailah/Zaveid?
> 
> _#7 “You come into the Starbucks I work at all the time but you suddenly work up the courage to tell me I’ve been writing your name wrong for six months. This is awkward I am sorry please forgive me.”_

Zaveid is not staring at the barista again. It does not matter what Eizen says. 

It does seem, however, that his casual observation of her annoys Eizen a great deal, as he finally sets down his cup on the table with enough force to make Zaveid start. 

“Dude,” he says sternly, “just go tell her if it’s such a problem.”

Zaveid looks at him, then down at his own coffee cup, sitting untouched on the table. It is fresh, hot and perfectly catered to his very complicated tastes. She does everything right every time, except for the one detail. 

“It’s not a problem,” he says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Eizen raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“No?” he asks. Zaveid holds firm. 

“No. She probably has hundreds of patrons every day. It’s impossible for her to remember every little detail.”

“And yet you’re heartbroken that the most vital part is the one she messed up.” Eizen picks up his cup and takes a long swig. He says it casually, very matter of fact. He is convinced of it, but Zaveid is not going to admit that he may just be right. 

“Look, it’s a difficult name,” he says irritably. “It’s not like it’s spelled like it sounds either.”

“Mm-hm,” Eizen hums into his cup. He sets it down and takes Zaveid’s cup from the other side of the table before Zaveid has time to stop him. Turning it around, he inspects the little black scribble on the front. 

“Daveed, huh?” His lips quirk in amusement. “Close enough if you ask me.”

“That’s not-” Zaveid sputters. “That’s not the point.” 

Eizen leans over the table and puts the cup back in place, pushing it carefully towards him. 

“Listen,” he says. “I have lesson planning to do when we get back to campus. I’ve been losing entire lunch breaks for six months to your useless brooding. Either tell her that isn’t your name, or legally change it so that it is.”

Zaveid stares at him, brows knitting together. He opens his mouth.

“No.” Eizen holds up a hand. “Those are your options. Choose.”

That does not leave him with a lot of leeway to use. He thinks it over. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he takes the cup and walks away from the table and to the counter where the cute barista is putting the finishing touches on someone’s drink. It is a colourful concoction of cream and sugar, worse even than the caramel strawberry chocolate mess (with soy milk instead of regular) in Zaveid’s cup. 

She looks up as he approaches, and a look of concern briefly shows on her face. It shutters and changes into the polite smile of someone on the job. 

“Hello again,” she says pleasantly. “Can I help you? Is there something wrong with your drink?”

At first, he is too distracted by her smile to even process the words. Then some survival instinct he seems to possess in the presence of ladies quickly sets in. 

“Oh, no, not at all. It’s delicious, actually. He holds it up as though it would somehow demonstrate this fact. An awkward beat passes, in which he gathers all his courage and eloquence to himself. “It’s something else.”

She blinks owlishly, and he notices just how brilliantly green her eyes are. She looks tired, but it does nothing to diminish her natural looks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He turns it so that she can see the name, balancing it carefully so that nothing will spill out. “See, I think I might have mumbled a bit when I first told you my name.”

The first time was six months ago, but he suspects he must have done something similar each time he has been here since. She really does look gorgeous, even with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and the signature green apron. 

“Oh.” The implications of this seem to dawn on her as she takes in what he says. To his surprise, her cheeks turn a light pink as she puts her hands over her mouth. 

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

This was exactly what he was dreading, and if he could smack Eizen with telekinesis he would. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass her.

“Oh, no,” she says, now more to herself than to him. “I do this all the time. I told them they shouldn’t let me-”

“No, no, sweetheart it’s okay.” He fumbles for words, then startles with his own mortification. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She looks at him with a mixture of embarrassment and complete confusion. He is not sure what his own expression conveys. 

“What, the nickname?” she asks. 

Zaveid really wishes the floor would just swallow him up right now. 

“Yeah. Just… forget it, okay? I don’t want to put you on the spot when you’re at work.”

“I...” she looks very surprised at this, which honestly makes him sad. “Okay. Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “No worries.”

“You know, I’ve had worse.” She says it wryly, looking away as her mouth pulls into a sad smile.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” he says before he can think. “It’s a workplace. No one should be hitting on you here.”

She looks at him then with new appreciation. She nods once. 

“I appreciate that. So then,” she says, gaining back some of her courage. “What exactly is your name?”

“Hm?” He is a little too absorbed in his thoughts, forgetting almost what the original purpose of the conversation was. “Right. My name. It’s Zaveid.”

“Za-veed?” She enunciates it carefully. “With a Z?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He will never know what possesses him to say what he says next. “As in “I zee what you did there”.”

The joke sparks instant regret, but only until he hears the clear fresh sound of her laughter. She chuckles, her lips curving beautifully as she does so. He thinks he may remember that sound for the rest of his life. 

“Not bad,” she says, smile firmly in place. It seems he has unintentionally broken the ice. 

He is going to get Eizen a fresh pot of coffee when they make it back to campus. Maybe do the lesson planning for him. 

“Thanks,” he says, smiling back. 

“I want to be sure I get that right next time, though.” She produces a napkin from behind the counter and a pen from behind her ear. “Could you write it down for me?”

That sounds like an excellent solution. “Sure thing,” he replies, and accepts the pen when she presents it to him. He writes carefully, making it clearly legible for her. Then he puts the pen down on the napkin for her to take back. 

She hesitates to do so. For an unforgettable moment, she bites her lip. 

“So,” she seems to weigh her words before she says them, “I think that if you were to write down your phone number as well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Zaveid blinks once, twice as he takes in this statement. Hope mingles smoothly with dread. 

“I promise that I wasn’t trying to-”

“I know,” she says, looking into his eyes, “but what if I were to do it?”

He opens his mouth, closes it. His lips quirk into a smile. 

“Well, that would be a different story,” he says, trying and failing to contain his excitement. “Who am I to deny a beautiful woman her wish?”

She smiles warmly and nods, satisfied. Once again he picks up the pen. 

After scribbling his number, and allowing her to strike out the wrong name on his cup to replace it with the proper name, he walks back towards his table as if on air. Eizen waits for him there with a smug smirk on his face. 

“So how’d it go?” he asks, but his eyes say he has deduced the tone of the conversation from looks alone. Eizen points a finger at him. 

“You’re still a douche,” he says, “but we should hurry back to campus. I’m doing your planning for the next lecture.”


	2. looveel-realm (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second prompt, from looveel-realm:  
> for the writing prompt, 2 or 10 with sormik ? :3
> 
> _#10. “We’re both YouTubers who lurk on each other’s channels because we’re in somewhat different fields, but apparently we’re similar enough to get a panel together at a con.”_

It is difficult not to get a little bit starstruck. It really is. 

The first day of the con, Sorey was running all around the campus trying to sort out all the logistics of his schedule and the panels he has been brought in to do. It was far too hectic for him to think about the important aspect that is meeting with Mikleo before the panel starts. As a result, it has not really seemed real to him, the fact that they will be sitting here together, answering questions. 

A short email chain between them has sorted out their joint planning. It is the only communication they have had so far. Somehow, he has gone through seven drafts for each email when the longest they got was “So we’ll meet up at the stage just before, yeah?”. The temptation to show just how nervous he is about this was strong, but he somehow remained professional. Clear and to the point. 

It is now, when he stands off stage and watches as Mikleo comes into the room with two friends in tow, that all eloquence he might have had leaves him. 

He knows Mikleo’s show well. It is a charming mishmash video game reviews and pop culture, with a focus on writing and popular trends. Mikleo can talk for hours about worldbuilding and integral setting, and Sorey can watch him for just as long. It does not make it worse that Mikleo is nothing short of gorgeous, with long hair and bright violet eyes. His voice is low and soothing.

Sometimes Sorey puts on one of his videos just to have something nice in the background when he does other things. He has drawn Mikleo a number of times with one of his videos on. He has not posted the drawings, or shown them in his videos, as it would seem out of the blue. They have never spoken to each other before the beginning of their planning email chain. 

Sometimes he has to pause the videos to get a good angle at Mikleo’s face. Mikleo gets very animated with his analysis, and he gestures to and fro as little animations appear on the screen beside him. It is endearing, and Sorey has a hard time looking away. 

He never said having Mikleo on in the background helped his productivity.

Now he watches in fascination as this mythical man walks towards him. It almost does not seem real. In person, Mikleo looks even more impressive. His curls fall all around his face, spilling over his shoulders. He has foregone the ponytail today, and the result is short circuiting Sorey just a little bit. He did not realise how long Mikleo’s hair actually is. 

He is talking to two other people, only one of which Sorey recognises. Eizen has made an appearance or two in Mikleo’s videos, warmly credited for camera work and lighting. The girl must be his little sister then, Edna. She helps Mikleo with his background sets and his writing, according to Mikleo’s lovingly crafted credits at the end of each video. Both of the siblings notice Sorey before MIkleo, who is looking a tad frazzled in a way that Sorey can empathise with. 

Mikleo turns at Edna’s nudging and finally sees Sorey. Their eyes meet, and Mikleo’s eyes widen. He stops for a moment, in which all they can really do is stare at each other. Eizen turns his head, and Sorey can see the beginning of a smile on his face. Neither of the siblings seem surprised at this reaction.

Once the moment passes, Edna elbows Mikleo in the hip. 

“We’ll be in the audience waiting,” she says. “Don’t choke.”

Eizen gives him a friendly, yet heavy pat on the shoulder. His expression does not change as he mutters, “Go get ‘em tiger.”

The two siblings excuse themselves and disappear behind the curtains. Mikleo opens his mouth, seems to struggle for something to say. 

Sorey gathers himself first. “Um, hi.” He hesitates. “Yes, hello.”

“Hi,” Mikleo says, his mouth drawing into a sheepish smile. “Hello, I’m-I’m Mikleo.”

_ I know,  _ he forcibly doesn’t say. “Yes I can see that.” 

That’s even worse. He reaches out to offer his hand to shake. Mikleo takes it. He is wearing a sleeveless top with bracelets on his arms, some of which Sorey recognise. Most are in shades of purple, white, or blue, but there is also the bright orange of a wearable convention ticket. It looks gaudy and out of place among the other cooler shades. 

“I’m Sorey,” he says. Mikleo nods quickly. 

“Yes, I know.” He says it, and then briefly closes his eyes, regret clear on his face. “I-I watch your channel sometimes.”

It should not come as the huge surprise that it is. On some level, it was always a possibility, but the thought of this man watching Sorey’s silly playthroughs of games he has skewered and lauded alike is alien to him. 

“That’s,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s great. I’m really flattered. Thank you.”

Mikleo’s eyes drift down to his hands. “I’m glad you think so. I didn’t want to creep you out.”

The smile on Sorey’s face grows without his permission. 

“I’m also kind of relieved. It makes my lurking on your channel less awkward.”

When Mikleo looks up, he is equally surprised. Then he looks amused. 

“No way.”

It very effectively breaks the ice between them. In another moment, they are laughing together as though it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“I’m actually a little surprised,” Mikleo says. “You’re a lot different in person.”

“All good I hope,” Sorey says, grinning. Mikleo nods. 

“All of it. You’re-” he only stops for a beat, to his credit. “You’re beautiful.”

That brings Sorey up short. He stops, blinks. Then, unable to stop it, he laughs. 

“What?” Mikleo asks, shifting on his feet. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Sorey waves one hand, snickering into the other. “Just the irony of it all.”

* * *

The panel goes well. It gets a little awkward in places. 

“You said you watch each other’s channels,” a woman in the audience says. “I wanted to know how you feel about meeting in real life.”

Sorey answers first, bringing the microphone to his lips. “Well, for starters he’s even more charming in person.”

The woman grins, and the audience around her laughs. Mikleo smacks him lightly on the arm, smiling mischievously.

“I was surprised, actually,” he says. “That last thing I watched with him was the letsplay of Outlast II. It turns out his voice is a lot deeper in person.”

Sorey laughs along with the crowd. Mikleo is smirking as the microphone gets passed to another woman. 

“Hi, I’m Donna.” They greet her warmly together, which makes her shift self consciously on her feet. “I was wondering, is there anything you particularly like about each other?”

Sorey taps his fingers nervously on his thighs. He searches his memory for something that is not Mikleo’s looks or his velvet-smooth voice when he speaks. At the moment, all other aspects of his channel seem to have left Sorey’s head, given that they are the only two aspects currently near him. Now when Mikleo talks, Sorey can hardly listen for the view he makes on stage. 

“Oh, you know,” he says quickly. “He just does such great analysis. If it wasn’t for his video on Amnesia level building, I would never have played that extra story with Nyancat.”

Laughter breezes through the crowd. Mikleo looks at him in amused surprise. 

“Really? That was me?” He sounds flattered, even as the microphone distorts his voice in the large room. Sorey grins, shrugging his shoulders. 

Mikleo turns to the crowd, smile still in place.

“I like the way he sings when he gets nervous.”

Sorey blinks. Scattered applause and a shout or two makes him even more embarrassed. 

“What?” He laughs halfway through the word. Mikleo nods insistently. 

“When you get into tense situations, you do this thing where you sing what you’re thinking.”

He does. He absolutely does, but he never exactly considered that to be the selling point of the production. This is both mortifying and oddly touching.

“Like when?” he asks before he can stop himself. 

Mikleo answers right away. “When you were playing Outlast. The first one. You spent the whole basement level like,” and to Sorey’s and everyone else’s delight he actually sings. “ _ Get me out of here, I don’t want to do this, who thought this was a good idea. _ ”

Sorey decides then and there that he wants to hear Mikleo sing again sometime, no matter what it may cost him.

The microphone is once again passed around, and a now familiar face stands up. 

“Yes, I have two questions,” Edna says sweetly. 

The tone on the stage shifts just like that. Sorey smiles nervously, very aware of Mikleo’s hand tensing on the armrest next to him. Mikleo made sure to warn him that she might try something to embarrass them. The relationship is apparently very sibling-like off camera. 

“Yes, I wanted to ask if there’s a possibility of the two of you doing a collab together.”

Her smile is angelic, except for her eyes. Sorey looks at Mikleo, uncertain of what to say. 

Mikleo still looks a bit tense, but when he turns to Sorey his eyes are soft. He smiles, and that smile makes Sorey feel more special than all the subscribers and fans in the world. 

“I would,” he says into the microphone. “What about you?”

There are already people cheering in the crowd. Sorey looks into Mikleo’s eyes, and something in his chest feels tight. He is so much more beautiful in person. 

“I wouldn’t miss that chance for the world,” he says into his own microphone. Mikleo bites his lip, and the crowd flares up again in cheers and applause. 

Once they calm down some, Edna speaks again. 

“Now for my second question.” 

They fix on her like laser lights. Mikleo makes as if to get out of his chair. 

“Oh, it’s just one question per-”

“I have here a copy of the literary masterpiece Fifty Shades of Grey.” She pulls the book out of her bag as she speaks, waving it so that the crowd can see it. “I was wondering if you’d do your fans a favour and read a few lines to us.”

There is no chance of them saying anything. The crowd erupts in thunderous applause. People are squealing and shouting their way. In only a few moments, the chanting will start. She has them backed into a corner. 

Sorey feels the laughter bubbling up. He looks at Mikleo, biting the inside of his cheek to keep it in. 

Mikleo is rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looks at Sorey, and it seems the amusement is infectious. 

“I knew she would do something like this,” he says, leaning in so Sorey can hear him over the noise. “I’m sorry about her.”

Sorey shakes his head. “Let’s do it.”

Mikleo looks equal part sheepish, mortified, and amused. “You sure?”

Sorey nods. He stands up and walks forward on the stage, bringing the microphone to his lips. 

“Well, bring it here then,” he says, grinning when the noise starts up again. 

As Edna approaches, he looks back at Mikleo. Red-faced and laughing, he covers his mouth with his hand and shakes his head at Sorey. Flushed in the warm yellow of the spotlights, he looks radiant. 

When Edna tosses Sorey the book, he almost misses catching it. 


	3. Dakijen (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third prompt, from Dakijen:  
> Hello! 9 with Sormik for the writing prompt thing if that's not a problem please~
> 
> _#9: "I twisted my ankle and you offered to carry me home. When exactly did you get this strong?"_

Sorey learns upon waking up that many things are different from when he last saw daylight. This is true even as it looks much the same at first glance. The grass and roads and trees are all there still, but even they seem to sway to a different wind these days. There is something that permeates the land itself. A new purity, and an aura of change. 

Mikleo is also the biggest clue and testament to the rapid changes of things in his absence. Sorey wakes up a seraph, and a powerful one at that, but by the time he does so Mikleo has had time to grow into his powers. More often than not, they end their sparring sessions these days with him happily yielding to Mikleo’s strength. 

He loves it. Winded and light headed, he laughs as Mikleo pins him yet again. He concedes his loss, and then leans up to kiss those pretty lips. Joy rushes to his head as Mikleo’s cheeks grow more and more pink. 

Sorey was impressed by his power before. Now he has seen him level storms, and yet wonders what power he has yet to see. Mikleo’s potential seems endless, and it brings him a tender happiness matched by little else in his life. 

Mikleo hesitates for a beat before he returns Sorey’s affection. His grip is gentle, his voice soft as he hums with satisfaction against Sorey’s lips.

Sorey smiles when they part. Mikleo’s long hair brushes his forehead, his neck, his cheeks.

“Best two out of three?” Sorey says softly. Mikleo chuckles against his temple. 

“You sure you still got it in you? That last one got pretty rough.”

He has a point. Sorey has only been awake for a month, and his body has yet to completely adjust to moving after remaining still for so long. His joints stiffen during the night, and it takes him hours to warm them up enough to properly spar like this. Mikleo worries about the pace they are going with it. Sorey insists he will be fine. It has been far too long since he got to do something that was not rest, and he wants to delay his development no longer. 

“Help me up, and we’ll see,” Sorey concedes. Mikleo hesitates, resting his forehead against Sorey’s for a moment and just enjoying the physical comfort of his presence. Sorey allows himself to do the same. 

He accepts the help when Mikleo offers it. His limbs are already beginning to slow him, growing sore and stiff and annoying him greatly. He misses being able to walk for days, fight for hours. Now he feels as though he is slowing Mikleo down. 

Mikleo sees through him, as he always did. He tilts his head, his expression one of sympathy.

“Let’s return,” he says. “We can continue later if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’ll show you who’s up to what,” Sorey mutters, but he accepts this turn of events. They begin making their way across the grassy fields back towards the city. 

Ladylake is as magnificent as it ever was, with sunlight glittering brilliantly across the water around it. They fall into easy conversation as they walk. Mikleo has explored every patch of ruin from the city to the edge of the desert since they last saw each other, and he is ever so happy to fill Sorey in. It is their favoured subject of conversation these days, partly because of the information and partly because Sorey gets to see Mikleo become animated as he recounts his discoveries. It is almost as fulfilling as visiting the places himself. Naturally, to surpass it, Mikleo would have to visit them with him. 

It takes some time walking, but Sorey soon begins to realise the toll the day’s activities have truly taken on him.  His legs ache and weigh him down, and his breath begins to run short even at the slow pace they keep. Once again, he is unable to hide this development from the ever vigilant Mikleo. They stop in the middle of the road. Ladylake is still a good ten minutes away. 

“Do you need help?” Mikleo asks. His tone is not pitying, merely factual. His eyes shine with concern, but the question is as natural between them as the subject of the weather. It always has been, and Sorey is grateful for that. 

He makes a show of considering it, still. Anything just to get that pout from Mikleo. The one where he wants to scold Sorey for being reckless, but does not quite have reason to just yet. 

“You sure you’re up for it?” he echoes, just to get a smile from him as well. Mikleo raises an eyebrow. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time I carry you, y’know.”

“I know.” Sorey smirks. “But I think I’ve carried you more.”

Mikleo comes closer. He holds out a hand, smiling slyly. 

“Then let’s even out the score, shall we?”

Sorey sticks out his tongue, yet he comes close enough for Mikleo to slip an arm around his waist. The other reaches for Sorey’s leg, which he lifts to make the process easier. Mikleo hooks his hand under Sorey’s leg and pulls hard. 

To both their surprise, he hefts Sorey up as though he weighs nothing. Much like a balloon, he just about floats into the air before Mikleo even has a proper hold on him. It makes them both lose their balance as their expectations of the laws of physics are suddenly eschewed.

Sorey flails a little, trying by instinct to gain some purchase on nothing. Mikleo stumbles slightly. 

“Whoa.” He quickly adjusts his grip. Sore blinks, once, twice. This was not what he expected. 

“When did you...” He looks down at himself, safely tucked in Mikleo’s arms. “Did you get strong or did I get light?”

“I...” Mikleo looks no less perplexed. “I honestly think you got light.”

Sorey shifts. His arms come to rest on Mikleo’s shoulders.

It surprises him when Mikleo chuckles. He looks up into amuset violet eyes. 

“Was I this light all along?” 

Sorey opens his mouth intending to say something snarky, but the words won’t come. It is occurring to him that this must have been how Mikleo felt every time Sorey offered to carry him. Whenever Sorey has done this in the past, he has never neglected to mention how light Mikleo is, often to the latter’s great chagrin. Now Mikleo’s smile is warm and delighted, and Sorey can hardly look away. 

This must have been what it felt like, and now Mikleo truly knows what he meant when he pointed it out before. It feels oddly significant, like a bridging of a gap between them. 

Sorey smiles happily. He threads his fingers behind Mikleo’s neck. 

“Lighter, I would think,” he says, and his smile grows into a grin. “You were a little shorter after all.”

“I know you think you’re getting to me with that,” Mikleo says, and his eyes narrow just the slightest bit. “And you are. We’re having Rose compare us when we get back to Ladylake.”

Sorey laughs, then yelps when Mikleo briefly feints and pretends to drop him for a second. He then pouts, and Mikleo takes the opportunity to kiss him again. 

“Fine,” Sorey concedes as Mikleo begins to walk back. “But we’re having Alisha cross reference. You’ve gotten a little too chummy with Rose lately for me to trust the two of you on this.”

Mikleo smiles serenely. “Whatever you say, dear.” 


	4. Amaritie (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Amaritie:  
> Tumblr is being a brat so I'll just resend: Short prompt list: either 5, 6, or 15, for sormik
> 
> _#5. “You tried a different hairstyle than the one you usually do, and um shit you’re attractive...”_  
>  _#6. “I told you I’m a werewolf and you’re being very accepting but I don’t actually work up the courage before the next transformation to tell you that I’m actually a weredog. A small dog at that.”_  
> 

To his credit, Mikleo takes the news very well. 

They have been dating for two months when Sorey finally tells him. They spend an evening together having dinner and bantering back and forth, and Sorey feels as though his heart is going to come bursting out of his chest whenever there is a lull in the conversation. He looks for the right moment for a good two hours of company before he realises that there will probably be no such thing. Eventually, the moment just catches up to him, in the form of Mikleo’s concerned tilt of the head. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Cold panic zaps through him for an instant. He swallows and clears his throat, if only to buy some time to put the words together. 

“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice comes out far too high pitched to be truthful. He stops, does his best to collect himself. Then he looks Mikleo earnestly in the eyes. 

“There’s just… something I need you to know.”

Mikleo’s frown is deepening as he sits back in his chair. 

“Okay?” He sounds worried. 

“It’s not-” Sorey stops, because he was going to say “anything bad”, but the truth is that he is not sure if it will be. “I mean, there’s something about me you should know, if we’re… If we’re going to continue, um,” he gestures uselessly between them, “this.”

Mikleo has gone from relaxed and playful to gravely serious in a matter of seconds. He knits his fingers on his lap and nods, slowly and uncertainly. 

“Alright.” He speaks slowly and deliberately as well. “What’s is it?”

Sorey draws in a long breath through his nose. He steels himself and resolves to just push out the words. Unfortunately, they seem to all come to him at once. 

“I’m a were-dog-uh-wolf-thing.” He speaks far too quickly to make much sense. “A shifter. Time of the month and all that… stuff.”

Never in his life has he referred to it as anything he just said, and never before has he regretted speaking something out loud so much. He sits wide-eyed in mortified shock and just watches Mikleo’s expression. 

Mikleo takes a moment to look confused, and probably to parse the information that was just hurled at him at high speeds. He blinks, then his frown becomes ever deeper, only to lighten again as he realises what the words actually were.

“You’re a werewolf?”

Sorey breathes so deep he thinks he might be getting too much oxygen. A stuttering nod is all he can do as his first reaction. 

Mikleo tilts his head again, and now there is faint amusement visible in his eyes. He realises the gravity of the situation, however, and quickly composes himself. 

“Sorey,” he says, and his voice is soft, comforting. “That’s not a problem for me.”

Sorey blinks. Relief floods through him at once, and he feels more than controls the relaxing of his tense shoulders. All breath goes out of him as he realises that he has not in fact ruined what might be the best relationship he has ever had. 

“It’s not?” he asks, because he has to make sure. He might have heard it wrong somehow. There is always a chance. 

Mikleo nods. He smiles slightly. 

“It’s perfectly alright. I mean, it’ll take some time to get used to,” he admits, leaning forward and reaching across the table for Sorey’s hand, which he offers. “But it’s not a dealbreaker by any stretch. You might have to be a bit patient with me, but I love you. This won’t change that.”

Sorey stares at him. For a long moment, it is all he can do. Mikleo waits patiently, but when no answer is forthcoming, the concern comes back in full force. 

“Sorey?” he asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

Sorey blinks. 

“You said ‘I love you’.”

Fear and shock and mortification, it all mixes in with warm reverence of what has happened. They have never said it to each other before. 

Mikleo looks then like a deer in headlights. He opens his mouth. Hesitates. 

“I said I love you,” he mutters, looking down at their hands on the table. Sorey squeezes his hand, bringing his attention back to him. 

“Hey,” he says kindly. “It’s okay. I love you too.”

The way Mikleo looks at him then makes his heart feel five times lighter. As though it is going to float up in the air and take him along with it. He lets it, and stands up. 

He makes it around the table in three long steps, and Mikleo comes up to meet him. They kiss, and Sorey gets ever lighter. He holds Mikleo’s face and looks into his eyes. 

“I love you too,” he repeats. Mikleo leans his forehead to Sorey’s. 

“I love you.”

* * *

 

It only occurs to him later on that he did not correct Mikleo’s understanding of his condition. It only serves to make things worse, because he cannot bring himself to do it over text. 

After that date, Mikleo goes away for a week with his mother, leaving Sorey to wonder what he will do when he comes back. The full moon will be just a couple of days after it, and their schedules will not be coinciding well enough to meet up before that. That leaves the question of whether he wants to tell Mikleo on the night it actually happens, or leave it for the days that come after. 

He has almost made up his mind, but then Mikleo asks him all sweet whether he can be there during the full moon to help. He admits with a shrug over video call that he has no idea what he would be doing, but his conviction in helping Sorey be as comfortable as possible makes for an uncomfortable tug at Sorey’s heart strings. 

Sorey almost tells him right there, but some small inkling of doubt still drags him from it. He wonders whether it is even worth the worry. Mikleo is not the type to judge, and the difference between dealing with a wolf and a dog is significant. Mikleo would certainly feel safer if he knew what the situation actually is. 

Still, there is some sense within him that perhaps Mikleo thinks it cool to be together with someone who turns into a wolf at full moon. It is well known that wolves are more popular in media and social circles, that they are considered noble and exotically wild. To get to see one up close is an experience, and one he is upset he will have to deprive Mikleo of. It is present in all the good shows and books, that meeting between worlds. The human getting to carefully approach, to fully appreciate the power of this majestic animal. 

He thinks about it for too long, and Mikleo begins to yawn on the other side of the call. They wish each other good night and he hangs up, staring at their chat history with unseeing eyes. He is going to have to tell Mikleo. He cannot just let it reveal itself. 

Can he?

* * *

 

The next full moon is more awkward than any other in Sorey’s life, and that is saying something. 

He paces the length of his kitchen and living room all afternoon. He has made up his mind.

The fact that this feels harder to tell him than the condition itself feels ridiculous. He knows that Mikleo would never judge him for such a thing. It does not stop him from judging himself. 

Mikleo calls from the road. Traffic is holding him back longer than he would have thought. Sorey regrets not warning him, as this is usually the time when people take their families to local parks and forests. A courtesy to the relatives who will need the space to work off some energy in their alternate forms. If this were not a special occasion, Sorey would be waiting outside in his backyard. 

There is no more than half an hour left when Mikleo's car pulls into the driveway. Given how irregular it usually is, Sorey would be surprised if they even have that much. He greets Mikleo in the door, and stops completely when he takes in his appearance. 

Mikleo is wearing a long coat and black boots appropriate for the autumn weather. His cheeks are rosy with the chill and his hair is loose and spilling over his shoulders. He is wearing a beanie, settled neatly over his bangs. 

Sorey can only stare for a moment, because he has rarely ever seen Mikleo with his hair out of a ponytail. It looks good. Really good. Enough for Sorey to fall just a little bit more in love right then and there. 

“Hi,” Mikleo says. He is smiling, which only helps to further short circuit Sorey. He sounds breathless, as though he got to Sorey's house on foot as opposed to the car that stands in the driveway behind him. Sorey wonders if he ran to the door. 

“I'm sorry I'm late,” he says, glancing sheepishly sideways, towards where his car stands hastily parked. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Sorey says. “Yeah, it's alright. Come in.” 

He takes Mikleo's coat and watches him toe out of his shoes. When Mikleo takes off the beanie, it leaves behind a ruffled halo over his head. He is wearing a warm sweater and jeans, matching Sorey quite well. 

“So,” he says, drawing out the pause hesitantly. “How does this usually work? Is there somewhere you should be? Anything I can do to help?”

Sorey blinks. “Right. No, I don’t think so. It’s mostly just waiting around for it at this point. There’s no special place or anything.”

“And you’ll…” Mikleo looks worried. “You’ll be aware of things, right? You’re still in there?”

Sorey nods, trying to make his smile as reassuring as possible. 

“Yeah. It’ll be all me.” 

Mikleo nods. He looks nervous, but determined. It makes Sorey very happy to see it. 

Sorey opens his mouth to speak again, but then something  _ tugs  _ inside his chest. His eyes widen and he staggers back a bit. It seems that things are beginning. 

Mikleo takes a step back too, his eyes wide. 

“Are you alright? Is it starting?”

Sorey can only nod. The transformation is not as painful as it used to be, but there is still enough times in between the occasions that he has time to forget how odd it feels. He backs up another step and leans against the back of the couch, steadying himself. 

“What can I do?” Mikleo asks. 

“Stay still,” Sorey warns. “It’ll be a second before I get back my bearings when it’s done.”

The transformation in itself is very quick. His muscles contract and stay that way, only to contract again and again. It goes on until he is shorter than the length of the sofa, then shorter than the footstool at the end of it. His clothing pools around him, his shirt falling over his head. 

When he sweeps it away, he is shifted enough that his vision has lost most of its colour. Everything looks blurry, slowly coming back into view. Mikleo’s legs appear before him. 

He is expecting some sort of a reaction. Confusion. Amusement. Stunned silence.

He is not expecting the way Mikleo yelps and leaps backwards, stumbling and falling over a chair.

* * *

 

“In my defense,” Mikleo says, “I entered this experience on false premises.”

“And I am very sorry about that,” Sorey says as he comes to stand by the counter next to him. He draws Mikleo into his embrace and Mikleo leans into him, huffing his displeasure and disrupting his drooping bangs. His hair is a mess. Sorey will have to find him a hairbrush later. 

Not for any reason having to do with himself, of course. He is very much enjoying this development in Mikleo’s personal style. He only wishes it came from something other than sitting up all night wringing it in his hands. 

“You never told me you were afraid of dogs.” He says it simply, without being accusatory. Most of all he tries to keep the amusement and concern out of his voice. The way Mikleo glares at him tells him that he is failing. 

“You didn’t tell me you turn into a Yorkshire Terrier every full moon.”

Sorey has to shrug his agreement. “In my defense, I thought it would be embarrassing. Not…” he gestures vaguely “like this.”

Mikleo sags in his arms. Sorey has offered him a coffee cup shaped like a cat’s head, and it seems to be appeasing him somewhat. He takes a long sip of his drink. Sorey squeezes him lightly. 

“Can I ask you a question, though?”

Mikleo shrugs, his cup still put to his lips. 

“Did you think it would be easier to be around a wolf than a dog?”

The cup remains in place for a suspiciously long moment. Then Mikleo turns and looks him in the eyes. 

“No laughing,” he says. Sorey has no time to make such a promise before he speaks again. “I was thinking that I’ve never met a wolf, and I can get used to one acting in a human way if I’ve never seen one before.”

Sorey tilts his head and attempts to make sense of that. Mikleo barrels on. 

“But I’ve met dogs before. Mean ones. And a gut reaction to something familiar is harder to get rid of than a gut reaction to something unknown. If that makes any sort of sense.”

Sorey considers it. 

“I’m not sure it does,” he says honestly. “But I do consider it incredibly sweet that you were prepared to be around me for this. I didn’t realise how hard it would be for you.”

Mikleo sighs. He turns around fully, leaving his cup on the counter, and wraps his arms around Sorey. 

“It turns out there’s a lot of things I’d do for you,” he says. 

Sorey smiles into Mikleo’s hair. “And I love you for it.”

Mikleo nuzzles into his neck. His voice is low and muffled. 

“Now I’m going to get some sleep, and next month we’re sorting out some sort of game plan. I’m still not leaving you alone for this.”

Sorey squeezes him again. He smiles. 

“If you like we can go shopping for a nice leash.”

Mikleo’s laugh rumbles against his chest. 

“Better not tell Zaveid,” he says, “he’d never run out of jokes.”

Sorey grins. “If I’m good, do I get a treat?”

Mikleo only smacks him lightly. His smile is wide against Sorey’s throat.


	5. Ardentknight (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From ardentknight: 
> 
> For your prompt list, 2. “You came home plastered last night and climbed in through my window thinking it was yours. Now I’m waking up to find you on my living room couch trying to reason with my cat that it’s your apartment and she shouldn’t be here.” Sormik Pretty please? I'd love you forever T^T

Waking up to the sound of something clattering to the floor is not unusual in Mikleo’s apartment. As such, when he does so at six in the morning, he thinks nothing of it and reacts only by dragging the blanket over his head to block it out. It does not sound like anything is broken, more like something plastic hitting the floor. That means it can be dealt with later.

However, it does not seem to end there. When the sound is followed by something else clattering on the floor and shuffling that sounds like something landing on his couch, he begins to wonder if Mr. Snugglesworth is aiming to tear down the whole living room just to wake him up. Then there’s a voice, which he was definitely not expecting.

He tenses as he realises what it is he is hearing. He cannot make out any words, but the tone is clear. It sounds tired, and a bit confused.

Mikleo’s thoughts and heart begin to race. He takes mental stock of the items he has in the room which could serve as weapons. There is a thick binder of notes on his desk as well as a vacuum out in the hall leading to the living room. He left it out the other night after clearing cat hair off the sofa for the third time that week.

Fear settles in him, cold and tense. He needs to get out, or get to a phone and call the police. He needs to-

He flinches when he hears the sound of Mr. Snugglesworth meowing. His cat is in the living room with whomever has broken into his house.

It is surprising just how white hot the flash of anger in his chest is. He forces himself to think about it rationally. He needs to find somewhere safe to hide until police can come. He-

The voice comes back, and this time Mikleo can make out a phrase or two. He hears "Look," then some mumbling, and then "whatever window you came through." The mumbling lowers in pitch and he hears a low groan. Mikleo's confusion only worsens.

Against his better judgement, he slips slowly out of bed, careful not to make any sound, and approaches the open door to the hallway between his bedroom and living room.

From his angle, he can see the back of the sofa as well as the back of his cat, perched securely on top of it. Mr. Snugglesworth is looking down at something in the sofa, and as Mikleo takes another step he hears the voice again. Sure enough, it comes from the sofa.

It occurs to him distantly that anyone robbing him would likely not stop to take a nap on his couch, but it changes little. As stealthy as he can be, he reaches down to pick up the pipe extension he removed from his vacuum the other day to make it easier to clean. It is a wide, hollow thing that will not do much damage except under the element of surprise.

Mr. Snugglesworth turns to look at him when it clinks slightly on the floor. Mikleo looks into his cat's eyes and holds his breath, keeping perfectly still. Mercifully, there is no reaction from the stranger.

After a long and tense moment of silence, he continues.

He is not sure what to expect when he reaches the living room. Pipe securely in hand, he settles into a sort of calm he was not aware he had within him. Just as he comes close, the voice (man?) on the sofa speaks again.

"We're gonna need to figure out whose you are." His voice is slightly muffled. "I'm pretty sure you're not an outdoor cat since I haven't seen you around, but I guess we'll see."

Mikleo freezes. He knows that voice. Bewildered, he leans over the back of the sofa, staring down at its occupant in much the same way Mr. Snugglesworth is. Slowly, he glances at the cat, as though he holds some answer to this.

The man beneath them is Mikleo's neighbour. Sorey, his name was. He is dressed in a loose tee and torn jeans, wearing sneakers but keeping them carefully off the cushions by resting one leg on the floor and the other one over the first. He has an arm slung across his face, covering his eyes and some of his mouth. Mikleo can still tell easily who it is.

All at once, things begin to clear up. Sorey looks like hell, his hair askew and a dark bag under the one eye Mikleo can see. His sprawled arm is covered in stamps of different shapes and colours, the kind you get from clubbing. There is a frankly impressive amount of them.

Mikleo is weighing just what to do, as obviously there has been something of a misunderstanding, when Sorey speaks up again. His voice is rough with sleep and alcohol (now that he understands, Mikleo can tell).

"You know, you shouldn't sneak into other people's houses like this."

His other arm emerges from the space between his ribcage and the sofa cushions so that he can point upward. Given his earlier words, it is clear he means to gesture to the cat, but the fact that his eyes remain covered means that he ends up pointing more in Mikleo's direction.

"Could get hurt," he mumbles, shifting slightly.

Mikleo wonders for an honest moment whether he actually expects Mikleo's cat to answer him, but then again, he himself has spoken to said cat as though he was human as well. He wonders what that implies about the two of them, but now is not the time for that. Feeling apprehensive and yet emboldened (considering what he thought would happen), he gently clears his throat.

The effect is quick. Sorey sits up as though torn from a nightmare, his eyes wild, before the apparent hangover catches up to the violent motion and he groans and sways. He blinks blearily up at Mikleo. Then he glances behind him, to the side, and at the cat.

Finally, he says, "This isn't my apartment."

Mikleo's mouth twitches. He shakes his head.

"No. No, it isn't."

Sorey looks around the room in some form of confused haze. He looks at Mikleo, and this time has the sense to look embarrassed.

"I am so, so sorry," he insists. Mikleo finally allows the smile to slip onto his face.

"It's alright. This ended a lot better than I was thinking it would."

Sorey sits up straighter, grabbing onto the sofa to try and steady himself as he tries to stand up.

"I think I'm just gonna go," he says, but as he rises, he sways again. Mikleo watches him for an agonising moment before he gives up and gently pushes him back down.

"Rough night?" he asks.

Sorey laughs, a weak breathy laugh. "You could say that." He looks around as though considering moving again, but Mikleo's hand remains firm on his shoulder. He rubs at his face.

"I have the worst friends, let me tell you," he says. Mikleo tries to make his own laugh as quiet as possible, but Sorey still winces.

"I gather," Mikleo says gently. He glances at the cat, sharing a secret, mischievous look with it.

"You know, you really shouldn't sneak into other people's apartments like this." He taps gently at the floor with the vacuum pipe, still in his other hand. It draws Sorey's eyes to it.

"That's a really good way to get accidentally hurt," Mikleo says, making sure to stress the word "accidentally", so as to not make it seem like an honest threat. Sorey chuckles weakly. Even as cloudy as they are now, his eyes are really green as he looks at Mikleo.

"Did I mention that I was sorry?" He grins sheepishly. Mikleo fondly shakes his head.

"I'm making you breakfast," he says with an air of finality, even as he still keeps his voice down. "Then we're getting you into your own apartment together."

Sorey's eyes widen. "Oh, no, I couldn't. I mean, I must have scared the life out of you." He glances again at the pipe and visibly cringes at the thought.

"You're not going anywhere until you can stand up on your own." Mikleo grins. "Besides, I've a library of hangover cures." At Sorey's look, he adds, "I, too, have terrible friends."

Sorey laughs and flinches at the sound.

"Fair enough," he says, defeated and amused.

"That's the spirit," Mikleo says, and as a slight revenge for scaring him, pats Sorey firmly on the shoulder before walking off. Sorey's groaning laugh follows him into the kitchen.

On top of the couch, Mr Snugglesworth nonchalantly cleans himself.


	6. Anon (Zaveid/Eizen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anonymous user: 
> 
> I NEED THAT NUMBER 8 WITH ZAVEIZEN PLEASE !!!!
> 
> _8\. “We play online games together all the time and you keep flirting with me over chat. Is this a thing or are you just trying to get pocket heals???”_

It starts out simple. Harmless. Innocuous.

They can't get enough people together for a full group that day, and so they just leave competitive mode untouched, opting instead for quickplay. As it all becomes casual and relaxed, Eizen opts for one of his more comfortable heroes. He selects Li Li and settles in to wait, cracking the first of many sodas for the night.

It takes them some discussion back and forth, but Rokurou and Eleanor eventually settle on being the damage, while Velvet takes the tank role.

The first map they find themselves in is Towers of Doom. Their one random is a Varian, which is a safe enough choice. Eizen appreciates it and hopes dearly that he is good at tanking.

Rokurou and Eleanor circle each other on matching mounts as they wait for the match to begin.

The match begins as normal, with a few skirmishes around the altars tilting the favour this way and that. Eizen remains close to the tank, but Eleanor is becoming quite reckless, chasing kills she has no business chasing. A few words from Velvet over voice chat puts her back on the right track, however, and they soon find themselves taking towers at a pace the other team has difficulty matching.

The tank remains close to him at all times, and he appreciates that. It is something he always tries to do when he takes that role, and he finds it a sorely lacking quality in their regular batches of random people who join the team. He also appreciates it when said tank actually thanks him for healing, something which he is wholly unused to.

With a winning team and a map advantage, they find themselves tearing at one of the keep walls together as Eizen keeps an eye on the enemy team on the mini-map. They are scattered, cleaning up invading mercenaries or fighting Velvet and Rokurou in the top lane. They begin to relax in the face of the disorganisation. Then, while they look away, the enemy team suddenly rallies, and begins to close in on the two of them.

Eizen notices it too late, and the Varian (Zavvy, his healthbar reads) is too focused on blocking cannonballs to notice. They end up scrambling to get out, and Eizen curses under his breath.

"Can you walk out?" Velvet asks, even as they both give up hope on it. The enemy Dehaka is dragging their Varian towards the keep, while the Butcher blocks Eizen from leaving.

Eizen considers what his options are (though they are few) and decides to try to salvage what he can. He turns and activates his ultimate ability.

It works. Once Dehaka lets go, Varian parries a few cannon balls and begins to walk towards Eizen, whose healing is now keeping them both alive. It all happens very quickly. The Butcher and enemy Jaina begin to attack, and Varian dives for the latter.

They make it out, but only barely. Eizen clutch heals the Varian out of the confrontation. Stressed and tense, he walks him out as though on an afternoon stroll. The enemy team follows, but now Varian's cooldown is over, and he can parry their attacks completely for a second or so. This lends them enough time to get back behind the walls of their side and continue to where it is safe to hearth.

"Close one," Eizen mutters into the microphone on his headset. Then a little message appears on his screen. It is posted in the team text channel, and it reads "Thx <3".

At first he wonders whether the heart makes it sarcastic, but there is no reason for the guy to be annoyed about what just happened. Then he hears Eleanor over voice chat.

"Aw, he sent a heart. I like him."

Rokurou chimes in.

"That's the least salty bit of chat I've seen in days. Let's keep him and see if he does it again."

Eizen considers the message. Then, as Li Li runs on autopilot back to the middle lane, he opens up the chat window.

"Np," he writes and presses send. Rokurou chuckles in his ears.

"Did you make a friend?"

Eizen rolls his eyes, but there is a smirk on his face.

"Eyes on the lane, Junior."

* * *

They win that match by virtue of Rokurou sneaking into the enemy core in the middle of a skirmish at their own. It's a close call, but they make it.

Zavvy gets the MVP title, and immediately the message comes.

"10/10 would have my ass saved again."

Eizen stares at it for some time before he skips out of the awards screen.

Velvet adds the newcomer to the party at Rokurou and Eleanor's request, and they find themselves once more a full team.

At the character choice, Eizen suddenly becomes unsure.

"Velvet, what do you need?" he asks. Velvet hums over the audio.

"I'm in an assassin kind of mood, so if you don't mind, either tank or healer," she says. There is some typing on the other end and a message appears in the group text chat.

"Hey, Zavvy," she writes, "You down for more tanking? Or should someone else?"

They wait a few seconds, after which a new message appears.

"I'm down :) Don't mind staying with the middle lane."

That means remaining with the healer, which presumably in this case ends up being Eizen. He wonders whether that has anything to do with it. He was unusually affectionate in the text chat.

Velvet writes back, "We'll work around that then. Do you wanna stay Varian or switch?"

"I'm good with Varian," he writes back. "Just be ready to capitalise on some taunts ;)".

"Oh, I like him," Rokurou says, and Eizen rolls his eyes. They select some appropriate assassins and the next match begins.

This time they find themselves in Dagon Shire. They split easily into lanes, and Eizen zooms in to get a better look at the Varian.

Zavvy has dressed him in the red king's armour, with the helmet shaped like a lion. It would look impressive if he was not riding a Special Snowflake mount. As it is, he looks very festive, and Eizen smiles at the sight.

"Nice setup, Varian," he writes and presses send. 

Zavvy writes back immediately. "Thanks. It's camouflage."

Eizen stares at the message. He stares at the little Varian, who sticks out like sore thumb. At last, he writes, "No?"

The reply comes quickly. Eizen rolls his eyes so hard he almost misses the cue to exit the base. 

"Then explain why I become instantly invisible in every patch of grass ;)". 

Rokurou laughs. Velvet makes a disapproving sound. Eizen sighs. 

They win that match too, but not by virtue of Eizen saving Zavvy the whole time. He cannot in good conscience let such bad humour slide. 

* * *

Over time, Zavvy becomes something of a regular in their group. It comes by virtue of Rokurou friending him and suggesting him every time he is online. Eizen would be amused if it was not so annoying every time he plays the role of the healer. 

He picks Morales, Zavvy picks Varian. Eizen picks Tyrande, Zavvy picks Jaina, and they make a good team. It is just a little annoying when Zavvy insists on putting himself in front of every attack headed Eizen's way even when it will surely kill Zavvy himself. That is not a good way to go about protecting a healer. Especially when Eizen's health was fine as it was even with the attack, will that man just calm down with his heroics?

Eizen considers talking to him about it. He also considers never playing again because this is becoming too much of a headache. He should not be flattered at antics that lose them every third game. It is a team game, not a middle age battlefield. 

He keeps picking healers, just to check how consistent this behaviour is. The results frankly astound him. 

* * *

He is playing alone with Eleanor when the subject comes up out of nowhere, much to his chagrin.

"You wanted to keep him that badly, huh?" he says.

He is playing Butcher today, and the other team has no idea how to properly deal with him. It is a game that is so far more than satisfying. He zeroes in on a Jaina who has been left to her own devices and overextended. He almost feels bad for her. 

"I guess so." Eleanor sounds as though she is smiling. "He was a good tank, and you didn't leave him to be skewered, so I'm guessing you like him too. Roku insisted on friending him. 

"That so?" 

Eleanor is pushing on her own unchecked, and Eizen begins to wonder if they have somehow fallen into the wrong bracket. This is too easy. 

"They got to talking, and apparently he's a lot like you," Eleanor says with some amusement in her tone. "Wouldn't shut up about historic linguistics."

Eizen frowns. "Eleanor, I'm an archaeologist."

"And that is not the same how?"

He does not have the energy to explain this. Grudgingly he realises that it does not really matter. It still sounds very interesting a subject to discuss. 

"What language was he talking about?"

"Take three guesses."

That means Ancient Tongue. Also known as Eizen's subject of choice. He stubbornly refuses to be intrigued. 

"Good for him," he says. When Eleanor laughs over the voice chat, he closes his eyes briefly in annoyance. 

His phone lights up momentarily and makes a cheery sound. He glances at the minimap. Sure enough, Eleanor is in motion (meaning she can have her hands off the keyboard for a second or two). 

"That's what he looks like," she says. "Roku claims he lives in the area."

"So now I'm being pushed into the saddest form of online dating ever invented?"

"Don't say that. There are far sadder forms." 

Eizen tries to keep from it, but his eyes are drawn to the black screen. He is currently dead in the game, and the timer is still on ten seconds. He pushes the home button, and the top part of a face appears on the screen.

Despite what Eizen might think of him, Zavvy looks just striking. His features are sharp, his eyes sharper. A warm shade of amber. 

He diverts his eyes back to the monitor and begins to ride to the middle lane. The healer is alone, and keeping to themself, but they might be able to push some together. 

"Do you want his number?" Eleanor asks when he says nothing. The silence drags on as he reaches the Morales and they begin to push. 

"Do I?" Eizen says, deliberately being difficult. His mouth twitches when he hears her huff. 

Suddenly, the mini-map in his peripheral flashes. He looks down and sees a spot of red too close for comfort. 

"Eleanor," he says. "Someone has taken out siege camp. Go clear it."

He moves the game camera and sees Murky slip just out of sight. Damn. 

They have pushed far enough that anything more would be a risky overextension. He watches the healer go to the bottom lane, and then leaves to go check on the bruiser camp closer to their base. Eleanor hearths and goes to clear the sieging giants. Their random people are still pushing, but he has a bad feeling about it now. 

He pings for their damage and healer to retreat, as both are beginning to overextend. There is no reaction. At his location, Murky begins to attack the camp he guards. Right in front of him too, which only makes the bad feeling worse. 

"Look, you don't have anyone to talk about all this history with," Eleanor says. She seems less troubled by these developments than he is. "Rokurou has his number. You should call."

Murky is good. Better than he is. Eizen is unsure which is more annoying, this fight or Eleanor. 

"I've got a situation right now."

"Fine," she says, "but the offer still stands."

That is all she has time to say before the other team descends on their healer and dps like a flock of locusts. Eizen does not have it in him not to blame Eleanor a little bit. 

* * *

Zaveid. He learns that his real name is Zaveid. He is unsure which name is worse. 

* * *

"How well do you know Zaveid?" he asks as soon as Rokurou picks up the phone.

Rokurou snorts on the other end.

"Did he win your little healer heart with his suave ways?"

"He did not," Eizen says, because it's easier to just go along with Rokurou's word choice than argue over it. "But he's cost me enough rating that at this point he deserves a talking to in person."

"Watch the claws, kitty," Rokurou chuckles. "What if I don't wanna tell you now?"

"Do you?" Eizen asks. There is a beat of silence in which Rokurou thinks.

"Fine," he says, "But only because I wanna see where this ends up."

* * *

Zaveid picks up on the third ring. 

"N'yello," he says. His voice is deep, his tone charming. Eizen wonders about the annoyance he suddenly feels. 

"Zaveid?" he asks. 

There is a pause on the other end. Then Zaveid says, "Am I in trouble or something?"

"That really depends on how well you defend yourself," he says before he can think it through. Said like that, it just sounds like a bad pick-up line. 

Zaveid chuckles. "Well, I've received stranger calls. To whom do I owe the pleasure and what can I defend myself for?"

Eizen opens his mouth to answer him, but then he stops. The words he wanted to say now sound ridiculous in his mind, and he has no backups. He ends up standing there for a long moment, scrambling for something to say. Outwardly, he looks calm, the way he wants to be inwardly. 

"I'm Eizen," he says eventually. "I'm the one who has basically gotten a day job healing you."

There is a beat of silence that stretches almost to the same length his own did. Then Zaveid says "Heroes?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

Something is off about Zaveid's voice and Eizen cannot put his finger on it. 

"What?" he says. Then Zaveid explains in just a few words, and still somehow they manage not to make any sense. 

"I thought you'd be smaller."

Eizen stares out the window in front of him. He blinks. 

"What?"

"You," Zaveid says, as though that makes any sense. "I thought you'd be smaller."

It feels absurd to point out the obvious, but evidently here there is a need. 

"You can't see me," Eizen says.

"I know," Zaveid says, "but the voice tells me enough. You're bigger than I pictured you."

Slowly, Eizen brings up a hand to rub at his closed eyelids.

"Nevermind that," he says. "At any rate, we need to talk about your idiotic Heroes strategy. I can't keep clutch dragging you out of fights forever."

Something changes about Zaveid's voice, and it is in the direction of amusement. "Is that so?"

"Quite."

"And you needed to talk to me over the phone to do this?"

He bristles. "Yes. You've died enough to actually demote me now."

"Well we can't have that." Zaveid sounds less concerned than he should be. "Say, you sound as though you know a lot about this, and Roku tells me you live nearby. Wanna meet up sometime and tell me in depth what I'm doing wrong? Say, over coffee?"

Eizen opens his mouth. Closes it. He can imagine his sister laughing at him, wherever she is at the moment. It must look odd to the people around her. She never laughs. 

"Hellawes Uni campus," he grinds out, because he does want to and pride is a stupid thing. "Wednesday at noon. You're paying."

"I always do on _strategy meetings_. See you there."

Eizen hangs up before Zaveid can say anything else. Before he can change his mind. 

He texts Rokurou, "I am going to kick your ass you later."

The reply comes quickly. "I place all blame on Velvet. Also, you'll need to be more specific."

"For befriending Jack Sparrow," he writes back, and then leaves the phone in the living room to go get some coffee and calm himself down. 


	7. Anon (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anonymous user: 
> 
> 5 or 8 from the general aus part 1 for sormik please?
> 
> _8\. “We play online games together all the time and you keep flirting with me over chat. Is this a thing or are you just trying to get pocket heals???”_

"Good news boys," Rose says over voice chat. "I found us a healer."

This is met with instant scepticism in the form of many voices speaking at once. Lailah is chuckling faintly in the background. Sorey speaks up.

"Like a real one? An authentic one?"

It is a notorious inside joke among the group. At five people, they make an almost complete team, and everyone's favourite choices of heroes include everything but actual focused healing. Sorey himself tends to lean on damage dealers or tanks, and today will be no different.

"A healer main, with some focus on Mercy," she says, "or, as he described it in short, a person with terrible friends."

"He's not gonna find better here," Zaveid says, and Rose laughs.

"True, but I'll let him find that out for himself. I'm inviting him."

They wait for a few silent moments, until their Discord channel chimes with a new arrival.

"Guys, this is Mikleo," Rose says. "Mikleo, these are my terrible friends."

"Hey!" Zaveid chuckles. "What about letting him find out for himself?"

"Well, show him then." Rose is clearly grinning. "Now, play nice."

"Hi guys," a new voice sounds over the channel. "I'm Mikleo, and I'm here to babysit you today."

He is met with muted laughter. Lailah queues them up for placement, and the timer begins to tick.

"I like him already," Sorey says.

* * *

They place in Dorado, and Zaveid, Eizen, and Rose make their choices in an instant. Winston, Reinhardt, and Genji. Sorey sighs fondly.

He watches as Lailah chooses Mei and wonders what he should pick for himself. Mikleo's icon is still blank and static.

"Hey, Mikleo," he says. It is the first word spoken after all the introductions have gone around. "Stick with the backline, okay? Don't fall for the temptation of following these reckless fools."

"Excuse you," Rose's tone is playfully offended. "I am perfectly capable of coming back when I need to."

"I'm not," Zaveid says gleefully. "I don't know about you, but I'm dying a hero's death."

They wait for a few silent moments for Mikleo's reaction. Sorey bites his lip.

"Backline it is, then," Mikleo says, his tone warm and amused. Sorey grins.

He selects Junkrat and waits for Mikleo's choice. The timer ticks down.

Mikleo selects Lucio, and the match begins.

* * *

Mikleo is a good healer. Like, a really good one. Over two matches, they have won both and only had a few deaths and they were all Rose's or Zaveid's.

Sorey tries to stick with Mikleo as much as he can, but he finds himself distracted a lot with chasing kills. It doesn't seem to matter, though, as he seems to find Mikleo just behind him every time he turns to return to the control point. Mikleo waves once, and Mercy greets him warmly. Sorey greets him back, and Orisa waves as she runs.

Mikleo keeps them all alive, zipping like a fly back and forth between them. He never stills and always keeps moving. Sorey finds himself emboldened by it, and makes some reckless moves he would never attempt otherwise.

It has mixed results, but overall it leads to some impressive wins. Sorey begins thanking Mikleo for almost every little heal, though Mikleo remains silently focused.

In Dorado, Sorey selects Pharah and flies up to the bells, sticking close to the edge where Mikleo can join him as Mercy. Together, with some practice and a lot of amusement, they learn to play the Overwatch theme on the bells.

* * *

For the last match for the evening, Sorey selects Doomfist. After a few matches of remaining with the backline, he is beginning to itch for some action.

It takes him away from Mikleo, who has now selected Ana and remains with the backline. The loss is noticeable, and one or two deaths quickly returns him to his usual caution. It still goes as it should, and they stop the capturing of the point - the limousine in Hollywood - until the timer ticks down to a minute and a half. That is when things begin to go south.

The enemy team's Lucio and Reinhardt are both down and respawning, but their own team has taken a heavier hit. Sorey is alone on the point, waiting for Lailah, Zaveid, and Eizen to spawn again. Mikleo is hidden on the rooftop above him, while Rose waits in the building as Torbjörn. Her turret is mounted in the hallway, ready to go.

The three remaining members of the enemy team attack as one. A Reaper and a Junkrat, flanked by a Mercy who boosts the Reaper's attack.

It all happens very quickly then. Sorey readies himself for a meaningless escape and turns around, only to look up and see something falling towards him. It is just a small spot in the sky, and it lands too quickly for him to realise what it is before it does.

His screen lights up yellow for a second. He turns and sees three life bars, all halfway depleted, all painted a sickly purple. His breath catches in his throat.

It takes him less time to react than it does his enemies. The Mercy on the other team is still frantically healing the McCree, only letting go once she realises what is happening. By then it is too late. Sorey lunges, and a username blinks in red across his screen as she falls.

He turns to the reaper, who fires a last shot before Sorey returns fire. Reaper's body bounces off the wall and falls limp to the ground.

Last is the Junkrat, who has had a few moments to turn and run. Sorey rocket punches to get himself closer, and as the Junkrat turns for a harried glance at him, he aims carefully and presses shift.

Both he and Junkrat go flying into the sky. The uppercut takes all but a fraction of his health, and Sorey is quick to finish him off with a simpler melee attack. The last name appears, and Sorey is safe again. At least until he lands on the ground, flanked on all sides by Junkrat's bombs.

He yelps, loud and undignified, into the microphone. As he presses a frantic back and scrambles out of the minefield, he becomes aware of his screen once again lighting up yellow. It pulses, again and again, as he is mended all the way back to full health.

He hears it then, now outside of the single-minded haze of focus. Mikleo is laughing, clear and bright as a bell.

"No way did that work," he almost yells. Now Zaveid is cheering too.

"Way to go, Mickey!"

Rose as well.

"What the hell!" She hollers. "Lailah, can we keep him?"

Now out of the grip of adrenaline and forceful tension, Sorey begins to laugh too.

"Dude," he says. "You just saved my life."

It takes them all a moment to gather their wits and quiet down. Sorey is already moving to rejoin the group, with Mikleo's healing shots still following him. Sorey may be moving a tad predictably, but he is impressed with his aim all the same.

Mikleo clears his throat, his voice warm with laughter.

"That'll be ten dollars, please," he jokes, and Sorey laughs happily.

"How about I just become your personal bodyguard instead?"

There's a pause, then Mikleo answers, "Deal."

They finish the match with no contest. The enemy team trickles in and dies one by one as the last minute ticks down, and they cheer loudly over voice chat as their team appears as the victorious one.

As promised, Mikleo takes his leave amongst more praise and congratulations. When he logs off, Sorey shakes his head, still amused and giddy.

"What just happened?" he asks. Zaveid answers him.

"You just became a personal bodyguard, that's what," he says. Eizen's chuckle is deep and fond.

"Sounds familiar," he says, and Zaveid laughs.


	8. makkura-taichou (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From makkura-taichou: 
> 
> HI could I get 17 with sormik if you haven’t been asked for that one yet??
> 
> _#17: "I take it you've never baked before?_

The screen brightens to reveal a large kitchen island with all manner of things on it. Behind it is Sorey, grinning, wearing a frilly apron with an image of a cupcake on it.

"Hey, what's up guys?" He spreads his arms wide. "Welcome to my first collab with the wonderful Mikleo!" 

He gestures to Mikleo, who stands beside him, casually leaning with one hip against the counter. He is wearing a matching apron with an image of a teddy bear. He smiles and waves. 

"Hello," he says warmly. "Welcome."

"Now," Sorey gestures to the cluttered island before them. "Today's video is going to be a little off brand for both of us. It's one of the most requested things for us both, and so we agreed to do it together."

Quick as a whip, he steps closer and slips an arm around Mikleo's waist. Mikleo glances at him in amusement. 

"Welcome," Sorey says ominously, "to the baking episode."

Mikleo's amusement grows into a wide smile, and he leans a little into Sorey. 

"Now, let's get started," he says. 

The video cuts. In the next moment, the camera is closer, showing the two of them with half of the kitchen island visible in front. The clutter has been swept to the edge of it in what looks like an orderly manner, leaving only a recipe card, a bowl, and a whisk. 

"Right, so today we're going to be making two things." Sorey counts on his fingers, keeping careful eye contact with the camera. "The first is going to be a carrot cake."

"Hopefully," Mikleo adds. 

"Hopefully," Sorey laughs. "So without further ado, why don't we look at the first ingredient?"

The two of them lean over the table, reading the recipe card together. It is not lost on people in the comment section just how close their hands end up on the marble surface of the island. 

"Looks like we're starting with carrots," Sorey says, chuckling a bit. "Who'd have thought?"

Mikleo is already retreating out of the shot. "I mean, fair enough," he says. The next shot is the boys sizing up a bag full of carrots, eyeing it warily. 

"We're going to need to peel two of them," Mikleo says, reading the recipe card again. "Then we're going to need eggs and sugar."

There are several cuts as the two of them go about collecting the ingredients and mixing them together in the bowl. They move smoothly, to the point where it almost looks rehearsed. However, upon reaching a certain step in the recipe, it becomes very clear that the rehearsal only reached the point of gathering things. 

"We're supposed to combine the dry ingredients now," Mikleo says. 

Sorey is rifling through a cabinet in the background. 

"Combine them with the batter or what?" 

Mikleo shakes his head. "It seems we're supposed to just mix them together before we put them in."

"Wait," Sorey says. "Isn't the cinnamon a dry ingredient?"

"I thought so too," Mikleo says uncertainly. "Maybe it doesn't count as one?"

Sorey returns. "Are you sure of that. Can I see it?"

Another voice comes in from off screen. A quite recognisable one for viewers of Mikleo's videos. 

"Jesus Christ, have either of you baked before?"

They look up as one, Sorey in confusion and Mikleo in annoyance. 

"I don't usually, really." Sorey smiles sheepishly. 

Edna comes into the shot, arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She and Sorey both look at Mikleo. For one long moment, Mikleo bears their scrutiny before relenting and sighing. 

"I mostly do cold things," he says. "I'm not good with actual baking that includes an oven."

Sorey lights up. "Really? What do you usually make?"

Mikleo's eyes flit between Sorey and Edna, then briefly to the camera and back. They have gotten a little off track here.

"Usually ice cream," he says. "I like to make soft serve."

If possible, Sorey's eyes grow rounder. "Really?"

"At any rate," Edna says with great disinterest, "Eizen asked me to come in and steer you two off the path of disaster. Is that a thing you gentlemen are interested in?"

As one, they look at her with a new sense of potential. Mikleo still looks a little bit annoyed. 

"And now we welcome our guest for the episode," Sorey says to the camera, flashing a smooth grin. "Everyone say hi to Edna."

* * *

 

The cake turns out half decent. They try it with minimal discomfort and Sorey loves the icing. Edna leans on the counter, looking for all the world as though she has just carried a ton across a street. 

"You two are walking disasters, you know that?"

Sorey has it in him to look a little sheepish. Mikleo just smiles serenely. 

"So," Sorey claps his hands together above the remains of a messy cake. "Now that we've got that done, it's time for the second of the video." There is a peculiar glint in his eye. "First step, we need to clean up."

One jumpcut later, they have a clean kitchen island behind them and the camera has a sideways view of a stove. There are bottles of different colours with narrow nozzles all around them, neatly lines up in rows. 

"It's time," Sorey gestures grandly to the bottles, "for some pancake art."

"Lords help us," Edna adds helpfully. They ignore her. 

At first, Sorey attempts a shape on his own, using only one colour. His heart comes out streaky and a little burnt on one side. 

"It's not bad, not bad at all," Mikleo concedes. "Let me try it."

Predictably, he has similar results. He makes a star with some black and blue, and it turns out okay enough that they chance trying it. Judging from their faces, it is not as big a success as it looks.

They work as a team after those first two attempts, pouring gently and succeeding well enough with some simpler shapes. Then the viewers are treated to a moment which is time-stamped in many comments below the video as Sorey takes on a project of his own. 

"What?" he asks as Mikleo laughs helplessly behind him. Even Edna has cracked a smile. 

"Is that supposed to be my face?" Mikleo is covering his mouth to contain his mirth. Sorey grins brightly as he holds it up to the camera. 

It is not half bad, actually. He has the curls down, at least. There are several compliments in the comments on how well he managed to capture Mikleo's nose. 

They laugh together as Mikleo attempts an equivalent for Sorey. Then Edna makes a perfect image of Pikachu. The video comes to a close at the kitchen island again, this time with several plates of cake and pancakes. They boys smile, messy and flour-dusted. There are stains on Sorey's apron. 

"Well, guys, there you have it." He leans a little closer and bumps shoulders with Mikleo, who does the same in return. "I think we've got some real potential for this."

Mikleo shakes his head subtly with a smirk. Sorey pretends not to notice. 

"Either way, we're delighted you joined us for this. Comment below if you'd like us to try something else like this. Until then..."

He looks at Mikleo, and Mikleo shakes his head fondly, carefully not looking at Sorey.

"Like and subscribe if you like," Mikleo says, voice upbeat and bright, "And we'll see you next time."

They wave together, and Sorey holds up the Mikleo pancake so the camera. 

"Uncanny, isn't it?" he says, and Mikleo bursts out laughing just as it cuts out. 

* * *

 

Cleaning the kitchen takes half an hour, but it is a pain to get all the pancake batter bottles neatly stored away in the fridge. 

"Do you think we got too much?" Sorey asks, and Mikleo chuckles. 

"A tad, yeah," he says. 

"Yeah, sorry about that," Sorey says. "What do you say we have dinner at my place?"

"No need," Mikleo says. "I think we've done enough adventures in the kitchen. Let's just do some takeout."

"Are you sure?" Suddenly Sorey is beside him, reaching carefully over him to stash the flour back in its cabinet. "I make a mean one-pot beef and broccoli."

Mikleo turns to him, and his face is indeed very close. He raises an eyebrow. 

"Are you sure about that?" he asks, subtly inclining his head to the pancakes on the counter. They have tried enough of them to know that they will not make an adequate dinner. 

"Hey now." Sorey pinches him lightly on the arm. "I said I couldn't bake. I never said I couldn't cook. Come over and I'll show you."

He then walks away as though that is a perfectly normal thing to say and begins to pack up the rest of his things to go. Mikleo stands stunned by an open kitchen cabinet. 

"You're screwed, aren't you?" It is Edna, come to haunt him again. Mikleo purses his lips. 

"I really am," he says, shaking his head lightly. "He does not get less hot with time."


	9. Krisseycrystal (Sorey/Mikleo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Krisseycrystal, who could not send me an ask and so sent it over discord: 
> 
> #19 plzzzzz  
> with sormik
> 
> _#19: "So can you fly with those, or...?_

 Mikleo really regrets ever asking the question. 

Honestly, he should have known not to. He has grown up with Sorey and never once known him to back down from a challenge. The discussion around the campfire went from their shared adventure to that night's dinner and finally to Sorey's newest armatus form. 

Mikleo had to comment on the shards that hover around Sorey when he armatises. He felt the need to compliment them, he remembers, because this newest form seems very impressive to him. Then he had to ask that stupid question. 

Sorey took it like bait, and so the next day they all find themselves atop the highest cliff shelf they could find. This far into the mountains, that turns out to be quite high. 

Sorey is eyeing the height as though gauging their chances of a rope swing. Mikleo knows the look in his eyes, and it is one that he rarely ever comes to appreciate. Respect, yes, but he does not have to like it one bit. He stays far behind Sorey and close to the wall where he will not be noticed behind the others. It is all futile, he knows. Where Sorey goes to do something stupid, so too will he go. It does not mean he has to like any of it. 

"You ready?"

The others are looking at Sorey with a mix of amusement and worry. Mikleo has kept a close eye at Lailah since this discussion of flight started. She seems to be the oldest there from what Mikleo can tell, as well as the prime lord of the group. If any of them should know not to worry, it ought to be her. 

Lailah sits close to Mikleo by the stone wall. She looks serene, if a bit amused. That comforts him at least a little bit. It comforts him less when Sorey goes a little closer to the edge and looks at the steep drop below them. 

Mikleo watches him stand back up and look at him expectantly. He curses the fact that this should even be a thing, that they have to do every stupid thing together. He considers his words carefully so that he can back out without hurting Sorey's feelings. 

But then he happens to glance around, and the others are all looking at him as well. As he looks at all their expressions, one thing becomes very clear very quickly.

There are mixed reactions in the group, but the consensus is clear in their eyes (except Dezel's). None of them think that he will actually do this. Rose looks mildly amused and totally disbelieving. Lailah is looking at him as though it would be the most natural thing in the world to say no, which helps a little bit, but then there is the look on Edna's face. A smirk, a certainty that he will back out at the first sign of trouble. 

It all sparks something in Mikleo that is not entirely unfamiliar. It reminds him of how Mason and Chiron would talk to them back in Elysia. They never intended for the boys to actually do the things they did (the adventures in the ruins being the biggest example), but they never quite worked out just how young boys work. When there was the slightest implication that they would be unable to do something, they were on the singleminded mission of doing it the next day. 

It is a stupid impulse. He knows that, but there is little he can do about it. For some reason he cannot explain, he would rather leave this mountain with the knowledge that he proved them wrong than with his dignity completely intact. He is fairly sure he could slow their fall should it come to that, though it would not be dignified. 

Sorey is looking at him with that same warm smile. He is prepared to speak Dezel's name at any moment, and Mikleo has a second to make up his mind. 

He looks at Edna, into her eyes. That is a mistake if he ever made one. 

Resolute, he turns back to Sorey. He nods once. 

"Let's do it." 

Sorey's grin is bright enough to almost make up for the stupidity of what they are about to do. The fact that Mikleo has to come with him is not in question between them. It never has been. 

Sorey's arm slips around his waist and he is suddenly pulled close. Sorey whispers Dezel's name into the space between them, and his hair grows before Mikleo's eyes. His eyes are still green, but a more washed colour than his usual emerald tint. Mikleo prefers his normal eye colour. 

He wraps his arms around Sorey's shoulders, and Sorey spreads the crystals hovering around them as though he is unfolding wings. There is nothing connecting them to him. On every logical plane this is a terrible idea. Mikleo is beginning to not care. 

Together, they lean out over the wide expanse, and Mikleo keeps a close eye on the ground beneath them as they fall. His heart leaps into his throat, but then Sorey's grip on him tightens and they are suddenly rising higher into the air. Mikleo looks up and gasps so sharply that the sky itself seems to fill his lungs.

As they fly away from the mountain, Rose's voice as she hoots and hollers encouragement is drowned out by the rushing wind. Sorey laughs into his ear, and Mikleo can take a moment to let the exhilaration get to him too. He grins wide as he looks out over the land beneath them. From here it all looks impossibly small. 

They will find out very soon whether their height is dependent on the level of the ground beneath them, as Rose's theory was last night, but Mikleo decides in that moment that they will cross that bridge when they get to it. 


	10. Galysh (Zaveid/Eizen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Galysh: 
> 
> In that case, may I place a request number #19 for Eizavie, please? I wish you the best of luck for the real life shenanigans!
> 
>  
> 
> _#19: "So, can you fly with those or...?_
> 
>  
> 
> Warning for some blood and possibly uncomfortable imagery.

 Zaveid arrives at the cave late in the evening. He stands in the rain with the slope of the mountain at his back and stares at it for a while. 

It is a deep, dark cave. The perfect place for a local monster to hide and terrorise the village that stands at the foot of the mountain. He can understand their fear, their quick conclusions. He can understand it all. It still sucks. 

His shoes click on the stone floor as he enters. As he walks, he brushes his hands through his hair, then over his pants. They dry unnaturally quickly, leaving only fading wet footsteps leading inside. His footsteps echo in the small space. 

It does not take long for the sound to mingle with something else. He has better hearing than most, but it is not far into the cave, still. There is a faint sound of ragged breathing, followed by the shifting of clothing and the clatter of pebbles on stone. 

Zaveid steels himself and keeps walking. A dark form takes shape before him, huddled on the ground like a man injured. 

He stops there, some distance away. He reaches out a hand and lights a flash of magic. Just a brief flare of green, but it tells him all he needs to know. 

Eizen lies on the ground before him, curled up and shivering. His clothing is worn and torn, a far cry from when Zaveid last saw him. His hair is a matted mess, his face gaunt and pale. 

Zaveid focuses on his face, and in the next brief flash of magic, he sees the beginnings of dark scales forming on his cheeks. One of Eizen's eyes is spotted with sickly yellow, the pupil a slit like that of a cat. 

But the most shocking thing about him is the pair of black leathery wings which have torn through the back of his coat. They curl close to him as he shifts uncomfortably, as though he is trying to make them smaller. Zaveid sucks in air through his teeth. 

"You look like hell," he says. 

Despite everything, Eizen manages a dry chuckle through wet lungs.

"Thanks."

There is little more he can say than that about what is happening. Were they different people, he might have been frightened, panicked, even. As it is, he simply reaches into the pack at his hip and pulls out a thick and neatly folded blanket. A girl in the village gave it to him after he healed her little brother. They were the only ones for miles with any good resonance. 

Eizen makes a sound that may be a growl as the blanket is draped over him. Zaveid sits down next to him, reaches into his bag, and lights a small torch which he sets up between two rocks. The light flickers and draws their shadows out over the floor of the cave. 

There is a moment in which Eizen shifts and visibly considers throwing the blanket off, but then he settles in beneath it with a weak sigh. 

"You shouldn't be here," he says. 

Zaveid leans against the cave wall and shrugs. "There are many places I shouldn't be."

Eizen shakes his head, and even that seems to hurt judging by how he cringes. 

"You know what I mean. The malevolence will get to you."

Zaveid huffs, nonchalant. "Please. I eat malevolence for breakfast."

There is some truth to what he means, at least. He stayed so long with Theodora that he must be practically inoculated at this point. Either way, he will not leave. 

"If you get corrupted before you can fulfil your promise," Eizen says slowly, "I swear I will eat you."

"Fair enough," Zaveid says, instead of the many jokes that come to mind. 

Silence falls over them then, and the sound of the rain begins to seep into it. Were it not for the convulsing wings on Eizen's back, it may have been soothing. 

"How did you find me?" Eizen asks quietly. 

Zaveid looks out towards the rain in the distance. 

"The village thinks you're going to eat them," he says. "Some of them saw you getting here."

"Oh." 

"Don't worry," Zaveid says lightly. "I told them you only eat naughty children."

"Fuck you," Eizen hisses softly, but when Zaveid looks at him, he can see a hint of a smile. 

"Nah. You don't seem up to it right now."

He could move closer, could settle on the ground just next to Eizen, but something tells him he would not be welcome to do so. Eizen looks feverish and clammy, and Zaveid hopes that the blanket will warm up him soon. 

"I went to see Edna," he says. To his surprise, Eizen actually moves to look up at him. 

"How is she?" he asks. 

"She's fine," Zaveid says quickly. "Still at the mountain and safe. Missing you, though."

Eizen's eyes fog, and with his eyelids close to closing, his yellow eye almost looks normal in a certain light. 

"I regret very few things," he says. 

"I know," Zaveid says before he can continue that particular train of thought. Eizen relents on it quickly. 

"Take care of her?" 

Zaveid looks him in the eyes and says "She won't let me."

Eizen smirks. 

"Fair enough. Stay close?"

He nods. "That I can do."

It will not occur to him until much later that Eizen may not have meant staying close to Edna. Perhaps he meant both, but it is not something Zaveid understands right now. He has no time to think on it, because Eizen continues. 

"And speaking of, can I ask you to do something else?"

Zaveid looks away from him then. He knows already what this is going to be. 

"Can we just not talk about that for one night? We never just hang out anymore."

Eizen shakes his head softly. "You know what I mean, Zaveid. You promised, and I think this is far enough to be proof that it's not going to change."

"Velvet went much further than this and still restored the world's balance," Zaveid says casually. "I told you we'll figure something out."

"You promised me you'd kill me first. Are you going back on that?"

Zaveid bristles. 

"I'm not. Can we just have one night of not talking about it?"

Eizen stares at him. Zaveid sighs. 

"Look. If it helps anything, I can kill you in the morning. Deal?"

Eizen stares for a moment more before before adding, "Deal."

They glare at each other for a bit, and now Zaveid is unsure of how to continue the conversation. Grudgingly, he reaches out and pulls the blanket a little further up Eizen's shoulders. 

"Dick," he mutters.

"Douche," Eizen mutters back and curls up a little more. 

They stay like that for some time. At first, that seems to be it. There is a long pause in which neither of them know quite what to say. Zaveid is almost swallowed up by his own sad thoughts, looking out at the gentle rain. 

Then Eizen coughs and groans pitifully, and he reminds himself just why he is here in the first place. He did not come for the two of them to sit in a cave and break each other's hearts more. 

He looks at the gangly wings. One of them is unfolding, stretching piece by piece towards the wall as though Eizen is working out a cramp in it. Eizen looks less than happy to do this. 

Zaveid knows that this hurts him. He knows that Eizen is heartbroken that he will be a danger to others, but there is nothing Zaveid can say to make that better. He knows what his place is, and he cannot go through what he went through with Theodora again. He draws in a deep breath. 

"So," he says lightly, carefully, "can you fly with those or...?"

It has the desired effect. Despite everything, Eizen still has it in him to give a weak laugh. 

"You are such an asshole," he says. Zaveid shrugs, smirking. 

He can do nothing more than this, just being here, but perhaps that is enough for the moment.

So he stays there, sitting on an uncomfortable rock and refusing to shut up, until Eizen is finally able to fall asleep. 

* * *

 

Eizen wakes from a nightmare to a searing pain in his back. He stretches the wings awkwardly, and warm blood runs down to seep into his shirt.

The world blurs a bit as he opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is a sliver of sunlight. Then he opens them fully and looks out at the mouth of the cave. The sun is already up. It is long into the morning. 

He has not slept like this for a long time, and for the first time in a long while now, he actually feels a little better. Annoying as he is, anything, including Zaveid's presence, would have been soothing in the hell that was last night. 

Eizen sits up, keeping the blanket carefully wrapped around him and looks at the green sunlit glade outside. He does not have to look beside him to know that there is no one there. He knows that. He knew that it would be so when he fell asleep. It still makes him angry, but he is too tired. 

"Asshole," he mutters into the soft fabric. "Curse you and your hope."


End file.
